Going to the dogs

the original production of Wolf, performed by Les Ballets C de la B included the burning of replica American and Israeli flags

A ballerina in black platforms and red wig with suggestive little horns slinks on the stage. She has long limbs and beguiling eyes, and a miniature collie snuggled down the front of her blue lamé leotard. Then she squats and gives birth to the pup, who lands on his feet, shakes his tail, and scampers off to join his canine friends.

Wolf, the striking new show from Les Ballets C de la B, by Alain Platel, features 12 dancers, three opera singers, 19 musicians, Mozart's music, flag-burning, an all-male orgy, and 14 dogs roaming the stage.

Sometimes the dogs interact with the dancers and singers, but, mostly, the pack of collies, labradors and ragtaggity mongrels sniff the set, sniff each other, and idly watch the operaballet they're an unpredictable part of.

The piece defies easy definition, something its choreographer is quick to admit. "Some people have called it a kind of opera," says Platel, the Belgian dancer whose mild manner little hints at his bold, often brutal stage creations. "Others see it as theatre, or opera-ballet. I think of it as all these arts coming together."

Platel often fuses different art forms, but it's the jettisoning of theatrical conventions that distinguishes his work. Out go the harmony and symmetry of classical ballet. Out go drama's linear narrative and opera's nicely dressed beauties. Out goes every theatrical anchor as Platel weaves a seemingly chaotic mix of opera, ballet, hiphop, circus and karaoke.

Wolf has no obvious plot, no lead characters, no resolved storyline. Instead, a collection of stories about the damaged and dispossessed, on the edge of society. The only constants are Mozart's vibrant arias - and the dogs.

"My original idea was just an image of a dilapidated shopping mall with wild dogs running around," explains Platel. "They represent an atmosphere of menace and fear, not safe domesticity. During one performance, there was a fight among the dogs, which scared everyone, and I was struck by that first reaction."

Platel's company is on a European tour with Wolf, which ends at the prestigious Paris Opera House next spring. It's a mark of the choreographer's status that the Paris authorities are happy to have dogs treading their hallowed boards - hardly something you can imagine at Covent Garden.

In the flesh, dressed in comfortable shoes and sensible clothes, he is more off-duty tax inspector than innovative dance maker. In fact, there is little about this unassuming Belgian that suggests the orgies and blood he has feat u red in his work.

His route to contemporary theatre is similarly unexpected. Instead of the usual dancer-turned-choreographer approach, the fiftysomething Platel was a childcare academic who worked with disabled youngsters. Back then, in the Eighties, theatre was something he did in his spare time, creating productions with friends and staging them in his back yard in Ghent.

From domestic theatre to the Paris Opera House is a journey you'd think would take military planning, but Platel says Les Ballets C de la B made it through enthusiasm and happenstance. "To begin with, no one got paid," he says, charting his rise from small-scale festivals to increasingly important theatres. "Even our name was a joke. It stands for Les Ballets Contemporains de la Belgique - a big title for a tiny troupe."

Platel's work retains much of the independence and daring of his first productions, and there is a willingness to risk offence. Scenes in Wolf have brought Platel genuine controversy.

The original production included the burning of lookalike American and Israeli flags, a highly charged act given the ongoing conflict in the Middle East. Platel admits that this has caused him problems, including protests outside theatres and even the need for a police presence.

"Burning flags is one of the most disturbing images," says Platel carefully. "It is just a piece of cloth, but also a symbol of nationhood. One of the themes of Wolf is belonging to a community, and what it means to be on the outside. Another theme is the importance of national identity. Destroying a flag reminds us of the strength of our sense of nationhood."

The flag-burning is a brief moment in a long show, but Platel has modified the scene for the London visit. The Israeli flag is no longer used, while the third anniversary of 11 September on Saturday has prompted further changes.

"It's not appropriate to burn a US flag on that day, even if it's a lookalike," says Alastair Spalding, the artistic director at Sadler's. Besides, he adds, Wolf is not about terrorism, or the Middle East, and the loaded anniversary would skew the performance.

He is right. Wolf 's unforgettable image is its dogs. They bring a unique bleakness to every performance. And here lies both the paradox and the appeal of Platel's work: theatre directors are notoriously reluctant to allow performers to dictate the show, and yet here is a choreographer, someone minutely concerned with mapping the movement of the human body, who has handed the starring role to a cast he cannot control.

Maybe this is what Platel means when he says: "You can only go forward, make something new, by trying out fusions and letting things evolve. That is the way dance can speak."